by Katie French
Ethan peers at the little disk. “What is it?”
“A locator,” I say, tilting it ever so slightly in the light. “Betsy said the energy from my body activated it.” I peer into the dark cave that used to be a sandwich shop. “We need to find a knife, something sharp. Then I’m going to need your help.”
I press a strip torn from my shirt to the back of my neck and wince at the pain. Ethan re-implanted the transmitter. He said it started glowing a few minutes after we pressed it into the fold of my skin. Now he crouches beside me next to some smelly dumpsters at the back of the hospital. Black garbage bags peek over the lips of the metal bins. Some of the bags are torn open and garbage litters the ground. I push away a soiled cloth with my boot. Garbage pickers have been here. If we get spotted, it’ll be a good cover story—that we’re scavenging. I keep telling myself this as I sit with my back pressed to the stinky metal bin, my knees to my chest, my fists clenched at my sides. At least one part of my plan makes sense.
Yeah, but the rest of it’s a mess, that nasty voice in my head says. Even if the receiver still works, which is unlikely, and Betsy sees it, which will never happen, will she even care enough to creep downstairs and let you in? Then you’ll have to skirt the guards, find Mama, get her unhooked and get the hell out, all with Ethan at your side.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Nothing is more impossible.
In five hours it’ll be morning. And if the Sheriff’s right, it’ll be my mama’s last day alive. I take a deep breath and silence the voice in my head. There’s no time for plans, only action.
Ethan picks up a crumpled paper wrapper and starts folding it into little squares. His voice is so quiet I barely hear him. “Ri, do you think Mama will be happy to see me?”
His hair hangs over his eyes, so I can’t read his expression, but I watch the way his fingers tremble as they fold the paper into neat squares. I put my arm around his slim shoulders and pull him to me. “Course,” I whisper. “She’ll grab you up and squeeze your guts out. Only …” I haven’t told him. How can I explain this to a little boy? “There’s something I gotta tell you.”
He looks up at me, his face tightening. His eyes are round saucers in the moonlight. “She’s hurt, ain’t she?”
I pick up a ceramic shard lying next to my boot and rub my thumb along the smooth surface. “Not exactly.”
“What then?”
I take a deep breath. “They’ve knocked her unconscious.” I meet his gaze now and plow through the rest. “She’ll look like she’s sleeping, but she’s not. She may be hard to wake up.”
Ethan stares into my eyes for a few tense seconds. I wonder if he’ll cry, but his eyes are dry, his face solemn. I keep forgetting all he’s been through.
“Okay,” he says turning toward the hospital. “Let’s go get her.”
An old soul, my little brother.
“There’s no way I can keep you outside,” I say, more of a statement than a question.
He shakes his head.
“Fine,” I say, sighing. “I wish for once I could keep you outta trouble.”
“You need me,” he says, puffing up his narrow chest. I tussle his hair. He’s not even nine. God, what a life for a kid.
A hinge creaks behind us. Our heads snap toward the sound. Across the dirty lot, a door opens. The rectangle of dim light widens as we watch. Ethan’s hand claws for mine. I grab it and drag him closer. Someone’s coming.
“Come on, you silly heads,” the shadow whispers. “Get your tushies in here.”
Betsy. Oh, thank God. I stand, pulling Ethan up. We jog toward the round shadow. I send Ethan up the five metal steps and I follow. When the door shuts, Betsy throws her arms around me.
“Agatha,” she says, her cheek pressed to my ear. “I’m so glad to see you.”
I hug her once, pull back and take her in. Her belly has deflated, leaving a saggy middle that pouches beneath her gown. Her blond curls are down, bouncing onto her shoulders. I grip her hand. “You came. I had no idea if you’d see my signal.”
She smiles and nods. “I did. Weirdest thing, I’d put that tracker away when you left, but today I found it on my nightstand. And turned on, too. But here you are. And who is this?” She asks turning to Ethan. “What a cutie,” she says, pinching his cheek.
I blink, processing. “Wait a minute, someone set the tracker on your nightstand?” The hairs on my arms rise.
Betsy nods. “Anyway, you’re here. What’re you doing back? Couldn’t take it out there, right? Awful, I heard.” She turns to Ethan and sticks her bottom lip out in a mock pouty face. “Awful, wight?”
“Betsy,” I say, grabbing her arm, “we got no time. We need to get my mom and get the hell out.”
“That’s, uh, that’s going to be exceedingly difficult,” says a voice behind us.
Stepping through the shadows, a masculine form emerges in dark slacks and too-large lab coat. His smudgy glasses reflect a ray of light.
“Rayburn,” I say, grabbing onto Ethan. “What’re you doing here?”
“Well, how’d you think I got down here, silly?” Betsy says, putting her hands on her hips.
Rayburn and Betsy. They’re both here, willing to stick their necks out for me. Yet something about this whole thing seems off. If I had time, I could puzzle it out. I don’t. I turn to Rayburn. “I don’t care how tough it is. What we gotta do to get her out?”
Rayburn shrugs and peers at me behind the film of his glasses. “I can get you into the Plan B room. Unplugging your mother—well, uh, that’s another story.”
I reach out and put my hand on his arm. He stiffens at the touch. “You’ll figure it out. I know you can do it.”
He clears his throat and blinks at me.
“Come on,” I say. “We don’t have time.”
We slip through the shadowed storage room that smells of old garbage, past the shelves of cleaning supplies, the yellow mop buckets, the industrial sink. Then we gather in front of the door that leads to the hospital.
I give Rayburn a little nudge to make sure he’s listening. “We go quiet and fast to Plan B. Rayburn, can you take us on a route to avoid the guards? If we see someone, we’ll have to try to hide, which could be—”
“I can get you past the guards,” Rayburn says with more conviction than I’ve ever heard him use.
“Okay,” I say. I look around at the faces before me in the dim light: Betsy’s round, expectant one; Ethan’s slim, worried one; Rayburn’s jowly nervous one. “Everyone ready?” They nod. “Okay,” I say again. “Let’s go.”
Rayburn swipes his badge and the door swings open. The hallway outside is dark and quiet. Little nightlights throw triangles of light on the tile floor. Rayburn scuttles out and motions for us to follow. I take Ethan’s hand, my heart in my throat.
We skulk down the hallway. Rayburn takes a quick left, then right. He stops at a set of double doors, takes out his swipe card. The automatic doors slide open with a smooth hiss. The room before us is pitch black.
Rayburn disappears into the inky darkness. My heart thuds as I will myself forward. I know what horrors await me, but there’s no time for fear. I tug Ethan along. Betsy shuffles so close behind, heavy breathing pulses in my ear. Together we walk into the darkness.
The door clicks shut behind us. A thick nothingness descends. The only thing anchoring me is Ethan’s hand in mine and Betsy’s breath at my back.
“Rayburn, the lights,” I whisper.
They snap on with blinding brightness. We wince and blink into the light. When I look up, I take a step back. “Rayburn, what the hell—”
We’re not in Plan B. This room is smaller, about the size of a classroom, with echoing tile floors and low ceilings, and there are no beds, no unconscious pregnant girls. Most of the room is empty except one occupied bed in the corner.
Ethan stiffens. “Riley!” He points to the bed ten feet away. “Is it—” He starts to tremble.
It’s our mother. I run over and put my hand on
her skeletal arm. I mark every blue vein in her semi-transparent skin. She looks worse than when I last saw her. Her belly bulges round and grotesque. She looks far too along to be only impregnated a few weeks ago. But she’s alive. The wires run from under her gown to the computer monitor above. The jagged green lines show her breathing, pulse and heart rate all steady.
Why is she here alone?
“Rayburn, what’s going on?” I ask, turning on him.
He freezes, giving me a sheepish half smile. He’s backing quietly to the door. “You, uh, you wanted, uh your mother. There she is.” Beads of sweat have popped up on his hairline. His flabby chin trembles. Warning bells clang in my head.
“Rayburn, what’ve you done?”
The door opens with a hiss. We’ve been found.
The Sheriff strides in. My mouth drops open. I tuck Ethan behind me. Betsy’s hands tighten around my arm.
“What is this?” I ask Rayburn again. He says nothing.
The Sheriff gives me his dangerous grin and then steps aside. A woman strides in and the door slides shut behind her.
“Oh no,” Betsy whispers, sliding close until her gown swishes against my arm.
The woman is dressed like those business ladies I’ve seen in magazines. She wears slacks with pressed creases and a matching jacket. Her smooth brown hair is clasped at the back of her head. She’s about Mama’s age, but with none of the wear and tear that comes from life on the outside. Her chin and nose are sharp, her lips thin, unwelcoming, but there’s something familiar about her sky blue eyes. They fall on me now as I’m staring, speechless.
The woman lifts her lips in a smile that’s supposed to be welcoming but borders on nasty. She takes a step toward me, her shoulders back, her chin held high. “You must be Riley. I’ve wanted to meet you for a while now.”
There’s something familiar about her voice. It takes a moment before it hits me. It’s the voice I heard over the intercom reprimanding Rayburn when he tried to be kind. She’s one of the head Breeders.
We’re screwed.
I swallow and raise my own chin. “Who’re you?”
She takes another step. “I’m Dr. Nessa Vandewater. I’m one of the people in charge here.” She gestures toward the hospital. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Riley. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She clasps her hands in front of her and I note her manicured fingernails, long and red.
The Sheriff snorts and she shoots him a pointed look. He grumbles but quiets. He rests his palms on the set of revolvers on his wide hips and glares at me.
Her shiny black shoes click on the tile as she takes another step forward. She’s close enough I can smell her perfume, something like wilting roses. I focus on her eyes, piercing blue with flecks of gray around the irises. Where have I seen her before?
She studies my face and gives a nod of approval. “I can see why Clay’s taken a shine to you. Feisty, bold. Just like his mother.”
I cock my head. “You know Clay’s mother?”
“Yes.” Dr. Vandewater smiles faintly. “Quite well.”
The Sheriff snorts again. He slouches against the wall, his belly folding over his belt buckle. He’s bored with this whole exchange and cranky like he’s being forced to be here. Is she in charge? How much power has been handed to the Sheriff by this blue-eyed woman? No wonder he’s staring at the back of her head like he could smack it.
I point to my mama asleep on the bed next to me. “What about her?” I say, touching her hand. Her skin feels like brittle paper. “What’s going to happen to her?”
Dr. Vandewater turns her graceful neck and gazes at my mother placidly. “Nothing’s been decided. This batch of Plan B pregnancies isn’t going well. We’ve had to change plans.” Her tone tightens and her hands claw around each other for a moment. Then she takes a deep breath and continues. “With the right treatments, she can be saved. Not the fetus, unfortunately. We weren’t able to stop the mutations.”
“What?” I snap my eyes to her.
Her head snaps back, eyes wide as if she’s revealed too much. “Nothing.” She smoothes a hand over her hair and forces a smile. “What happens to your mother is going to be up to you and Clay.”
“To me and Clay?”
She touches an index finger to the metallic disk inside her ear. “Location of Clay?” she asks and then waits for a moment and nods. “He’ll be here in twenty seconds.” She gives a little smile. “Perfect timing.”
Ethan drops my hand and takes a step forward, fists clenched at his sides. “What’re you gonna do to Clay?”
She leans down and smiles at him. “Clay will be fine, little Ethan. Don’t you worry about that.” When she smiles her teeth are straight and white as bleached tombstones.
The doors behind us swish open. Clay charges into the room. He squints against the blinding lights, throwing up a hand to shield his eyes. He stumbles over to me. “Riley, Ethan, what—” His eyes fall on his father and the woman in the suit. “Pa? What …” Shock creeps over his face. “What … the hell is going on?”
Dr. Vandewater claps her hands, her face unfolding into a giddy smile. “Oh, Clay, look at you.” She rushes over to him. “When I saw you on the monitor screens, I said to myself, Look how much he’s grown. Not a boy now, are you?” She pauses a few feet from him, admiring him. “A man.” She looks to the Sheriff for confirmation. He frowns back, but she just keeps smiling like a rabid coyote. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come.”
Clay’s mouth drops open, his eyes wide. “You … You’re—”
“Yes,” she says, clasping his hand. “I’m your mother.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Now I understand. Clay has his mother’s eyes.
Clay stares into her face, slowly shaking his head. “But, I—I thought you were dead or gone or … Right?” He lifts his eyes to his father.
The Sheriff shakes his head. “It’s your ma, alright.”
She nods, inserting herself into Clay’s line of vision. “Sweetheart, darling, I wish you could understand why I’ve been gone for so long.” Her tone speeds up. Her eyes are too wide. Her hands flutter like panicked birds. “It was impossible to have you here while I focused on my work. What would I do with a child running around the labs? You would’ve just gotten into trouble. But now, it can all be different.” She reaches a hand out to touch his cheek and he steps back.
“You left me I when was a baby. Pa said he was forced to bring you here to breed.” He points to his father who shrugs, drops his head and twiddles his fingers on his revolvers.
She clasps her hands together. “We couldn’t tell you the truth, darling. It was better you thought I was out of your reach. I’ll admit I did get a little obsessed. We were so close to perfecting the procedure.” She looks up at Clay. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is when I saw you on the monitors when you came to get Riley.”
Eyes turn to me, then back to the doctor.
“I knew I had to see you. I asked your father to bring you earlier today, but he was unable.” She shoots him a glance.
The Sheriff eyes Clay. “Gave me the slip, didn’t ya, boy? Beat me back home to see her.” He nods to me, disgusted. “Yer ma and I figured you’d come after the filly. Guess we was right.” He smirks, but Dr. Vandewater shoots him another glare.
“Clay, darling, listen. I’ve given so much of my life to this job. Now it’s my turn. I need to connect with you again.”
Clay blinks and shakes his head slightly. “I—I don’t understand. You want to come back now?”
She takes a step forward, her hand outstretched. “I gave up a life with you and with your father so I could help them here at the hospital. It was the right thing to do, but I’ve given them eighteen years of my life and now it’s my turn. I’m stepping down from the experimental program. I have time now. Time for you.” She cups Clay’s cheek. This time he doesn’t pull away. “It’s not too late for us.”
A tense silence hangs, the only sound the delicate beeping of my mama�
��s heart monitor. If my heart had a monitor, it’d be beeping out of control. I watch Clay in his dirty jeans and cotton t-shirt torn at the shoulder. His boots are grimy, his chin dark with stubble. He came after me today, risked angering his pa. Now he stands between his mother and I and doesn’t look at either of us. His blue eyes, his mother’s eyes, are locked to the polished tile floor. His hands twitch at his sides, but other than that, there are no signs of a war raging inside him. I want to close the gap between us, throw my arms around his neck and lean my head against his chest. Instead, I stand stock-still and await his judgment.
He looks up at his mother. “What’ll happen to them?” He points at Ethan and me.
“That’s the best part,” she says, smiling too wide. “They can stay here at the hospital. Your father has already agreed to move the two of you to town so we can all be together. You can visit Riley as often as you like. She’ll be safe here, free from disease, war, enslavement. She’ll have the best food and medicine. And you two can still be together. It’s perfect.”
She makes it sound too good to be true. But as I look into her eyes, I don’t see a future free from pain and torment. I see imprisonment, plain and simple. Yet, it’s not my decision to make.
“What about her ma? And Ethan?” he says, shooting him a glance. “What’ll happen to them?”
“We’ll use every technology available to save Janine Meemick’s life. Out there, she might survive, but …” She looks at my mother. “It won’t be pretty. Ethan can stay with you and your father and visit his family on weekends. When he’s old enough, we can get him a job. There are perks to knowing someone in the upper offices.” She smiles slyly, raising her perfectly rounded eyebrows.
Clay frowns. “And what if I say no?”
Dr. Vandewater stiffens. “Why would you?”
He locks his jaw and stares at her. “What if I say no?”
Dr. Nessa Vandewater lifts a slightly trembling hand to smooth her hair. “Well, things could go rather badly.” She enunciates each word as she shoots eye daggers at me. She softens as she turns back to Clay. “I don’t want it to come to that, Clay. Please.”
